


Highs and Lows

by ChocolateCapCookie



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, M/M, Minor Injuries, One Shot, Slice of Life, Superhusbands, a lil sprinkle of angst bc why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28498389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCapCookie/pseuds/ChocolateCapCookie
Summary: There were always perks to having gotten the serum, but at times like this, Steve wondered if his life would have been easier if he’d just stayed a normal, un-powered human being.But then again, if he hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t have met Tony, so he supposed it was all worth it, reallySteve and Tony return from a mission and live domestically ever after
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 97
Collections: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange





	Highs and Lows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nixie_DeAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nixie_DeAngel/gifts).



> Nixie, I hope you don't mind that I combined both your prompts into one xD but they were so fun to work with. I hope you like it!
> 
> Thank you as always to my amazingly wonderful beta, kait, who is the cutest little human writing machine I have had the pleasure to work with

“You’re so _stupid_ ,” growled Tony, bandaging Steve’s leg with maybe a little more force than was strictly necessary. Steve winced, but stayed silent. He knew he deserved this.

“The great Captain America,” Tony continued, clenching his fists in what Steve knew was a mix of frustration and fear, fear that he’d almost lost Steve, “has no problem benching _me_ when _I_ don’t stick to his oh-so-rigid plans, but he can go throw _himself_ into the line of fire for me!”

“Tony,” Steve started, trying to calm him down, but it just seemed to agitate him even more. Tony dropped the bandage rolls he was holding and started pacing around the Quinjet, his hands clenching and unclenching erratically. The other Avengers pretended they couldn’t see what was happening.

“I’m the one with the _literal suit of armor_ , Steve!” he yelled. “You may be Captain America, but that doesn’t make you bulletproof or magic-proof or every other kind of proof you seem to think you are!” Steve tried to interject again but Tony kept pacing, his words flowing in an unstoppable torrent, “I could’ve taken the hit! I could’ve stopped them and come out perfectly fine! But no, you just _had_ to jump in the middle and take the stupid hit for me.” He paused again, and this time, Steve could see how wet his eyes were, how hard Tony was affected by this.

“Tony, sweetheart,” he said, softly enough that Tony walked over to him again, trembling with unshed tears. “Baby, it’s just a broken leg. I’ll heal, you know that.”

“Yeah, you’ll heal. Without medication or painkillers, because nothing we have works on you, and you’ll be in pain for all of the next week,” spat Tony, even as he gently wiped away the dried trails of blood, grime and tears on Steve’s face. The cold cloth was soothing against Steve’s skin and he was more than ready to fall asleep right then, except this was not the time for falling asleep.

“I’d be in a lot more pain if you’d gotten hurt from something I could’ve stopped,” he said, raising a tired hand to cup Tony’s cheek. “I love you, Tony, and I’d never stay on the side when I could’ve done something.” Tony didn’t agree with his sentiment, he knew, given how many times they’d had this argument already, but he seemed too shaken up to argue anymore.

“Shut up,” was all Tony said, or mumbled really, as he continued to tend to Steve’s wounds. Steve had gotten a little more beaten up than usual this time, even discounting the broken leg, and Tony mopped him up with care, growling like a protective mama bear when the others so much as wandered too close. He’d reluctantly let Bruce place Steve’s leg in a splint, but that was it.

“Did you get hit anywhere else?” he asked when he finally got all the streaks of blood and grime off Steve’s skin. There were several little cuts and nicks still, but Tony couldn’t really do anything about them unless he wanted to preserve Steve’s face under a layer of band-aids. “And don’t tell me you’re “fine” because so help me god, if I find out you’re hiding another injury from me, Steve—”

“My arm’s a little scratched up, too,” interrupted Steve, trying to hide a smile. Everyone always assumed he was the mother hen of the team, but Tony was much, much worse, at least where Steve was concerned.

“And you didn’t tell me this whole time?” Tony yelled, but he gently pulled at Steve’s torn right sleeve, ripping it away from the suit until the gash came into view. As battle wounds went, it wasn’t too bad; just a bad scrape caused by Steve’s landing on a rough street, but the skin was torn and bloody enough that both Steve and Tony winced at the sight. The serum had already started its work, layers of fresh, pink skin growing in between the pieces of embedded rubble. Tony glared at Steve.

“Why do I put up with you, Rogers?” he sighed, but he began to mechanically pick out each tiny rock from Steve’s arm.

“Because you love me?” Steve winced at the pain of Tony ripping through his skin, and looking at him, Tony’s eyes seemed to soften.

“I really, really do.” Tony pressed a soft, tender kiss to Steve’s arm, right at the top of the gash, and continued pulling out the broken rocks, working as gently as possible.

“Thank you,” said Steve quietly, watching Tony struggle with a particularly deeply embedded piece of rubble. “And I really am sorry. But you know well and good you’d have done the same thing for me.”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” snarked Tony, and Steve let out a small laugh, which immediately turned into a cry of pain as Tony won his battle with the rock. “Sorry.”

“It’s _fine_ ,” gasped Steve, trying not to let the tears fall. There were always perks to having gotten the serum, but at times like this, Steve wondered if his life would have been easier if he’d just stayed a normal, un-powered human being.

But then again, if he hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t have met Tony, so he supposed it was all worth it, really.

“I’m almost done,” said Tony, sticking his tongue out as he reached for the few remaining pieces that were so deeply embedded in Steve’s new skin, they weren't visible earlier. He looked up at Steve, Steve, who was so clearly in pain and clearly trying not to show it, and all his anger seemed to disappear in a flash.

“Do you want me to leave it in? It can wait until we get home,” he said, but Steve shook his head. It was probably safer to pull them out now, when they were still clearly visible, rather than wait longer and risk having them completely covered. Also, he wouldn’t admit it if anyone asked, but it felt much better having Tony take care of him than any of the nice but anonymous doctors in the Compound’s medical bay. Tony kissed him, soft and gentle and enough to bring Steve back down again before he resumed working on Steve’s arm.

When Tony finally pulled out the last visible rock, he carefully wrapped a bandage around Steve’s wound and pinned it tight. There was nothing more he could do until they touched down at the Compound, but Tony kept fussing over him anyway, and it warmed Steve’s heart, just a little bit, to see so clearly how much Tony loved him.

Several hours later, Steve and Tony were laying down on their couch, cuddled together and too tired to move. They’d gotten through the debrief and medical — Steve had no reason to stay, according to the doctors; his leg was well on its way to healing thanks to the serum — and they’d showered and changed into comfortable clothes before collapsing onto the couch. Both men were tired, exhausted in that easy way that made you not want to move a muscle, but too keyed up to fall asleep.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” said Tony quietly, his words muffled by the fact that his face was hidden in Steve’s neck.

“I’d say I won’t,” sighed Steve, “but we both know that would be a lie.”

“Shut up and listen to me, Rogers.” Tony leaned upwards to kiss Steve, and Steve responded by pulling Tony even closer to himself. At this rate, they’d end up fused together.

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

“I’m fine, Tony,” said Steve, the third time he’d given the same answer to the same question in the last hour. “I’m great.”

“Are you hungry?”

Steve started to say no, but his stomach growled right then, right underneath Tony, who laughed. “You’re a shit liar, Rogers.”

“Fine,” Steve conceded. “What d’you want? The Thai place is probably closed this late, but the pizza place is still open, I think. And the Chinese place is 24/7.” Tony glared at him in mock horror.

“We’re not getting takeout, Steven! You’re healing from a traumatic injury, and your body needs _healthy, homemade_ food with all the nutrients to speed up your recovery!”

“Tony, when was the last time _you_ ate a vegetable?”

“Not the point,” said Tony, waving his hand dismissively. “It is my job as your boyfriend to care for you during your recovery, and that means making you food.”

“Oh, no,” Steve groaned. “Tony, honey, please, you’ve done enough for me already. Please don’t make me food, too.”

“Well I can’t leave you to starve, can I?”

“It’s almost midnight, Tony! Nobody cooks at midnight!”

“It’s like you’ve never heard of a midnight snack.” Tony kissed Steve’s nose and rolled out from under him, making sure not to bump Steve’s leg too much. “You just sit here and look pretty, Steve. I’m going to make you… something. What would you like?”

“Tony, we both know you can’t cook,” said Steve, dropping all subtlety. “If you really want something homemade, let me do it, I can—”

Tony cut him off “You’re the injured one, and it’s my job to take care of you.” He batted his big brown eyes at Steve, and Steve felt himself melt a little on the inside. A little bit. Not enough to eat whatever disgusting, burnt concoction Tony would no doubt make if Steve let him.

“Fine, but you’re letting me help.” It would be a cold day in hell before Steve let Tony use the kitchen unattended. When Tony opened his mouth to cut Steve off again, Steve pulled him into a kiss to shut him up. “I don’t cook with my leg, Tony.”

“Fine,” said Tony, finally. He could tell when he was beaten.

Steve limped to the fridge and scanned the ingredients, quickly trying to decide what he could make. They’d been gone on this mission for almost a week; not too long by any means, but long enough that JARVIS would have made sure any fresh food from the last week would have been safely disposed of.

“Does mac and cheese sound good?” asked Steve, clutching the last remaining milk carton in his hands. It was supposed to expire tomorrow — technically in another ten minutes — so they might as well use it up now. “If we’re cooking, we might as well make something filling.”

Tony, who couldn't have told you the difference between cooking mac and cheese and cooking lasagna, frowned. “Doesn’t that take too long? And it’s a lot of work for your leg.” Steve laughed and hobbled back over to Tony, with the simple aim of kissing him senseless.

“You’d be a terrible housewife,” he whispered against Tony’s lips. “And it’s _adorable_.”

“I am not _adorable_ ,” squawked Tony, mortally offended. “I pilot a flying suit of armor, I made weapons for a living, I fought _aliens_ for Christ’s sake. I am a tough, manly man. I am not _adorable_.” He broke off, muttering angrily, and he looked so small and cute when he was offended that Steve couldn’t stop himself from kissing Tony again.

“My tiny, adorable boyfriend,” he said, unable to hide his smile when Tony gave him a death glare with those pretty, twinkly brown eyes. Tony was so cute. “But before we get on this again, no Tony, it takes thirty minutes, at most. Less if we decide not to bake it.”

“Let’s not bake it,” agreed Tony. “What do you want me to do, Captain?”

“You can boil the pasta,” said Steve, knowing the simple task would be enough to occupy Tony fully as Steve prepared the roux. “Make sure you add enough salt and don’t overcook it.” Tony gave him a mock salute and started rummaging through the cabinets for a box of pasta.

Steve quickly measured out the amount of flour and butter he needed — Tony, being an absolute sweetheart as always, transported everything he needed from the fridge to the counter for Steve’s ease of access — and slowly mixed them together. He paid particular attention to the seasonings, knowing Tony didn’t like too much spice. Soon, he’d mixed everything together and let the sauce simmer, and his leg really was hurting from all this time standing up.

He turned around, hoping to maybe sit down for a few minutes, and caught Tony staring at him in pure awe. It would’ve been cute if the pot behind him wasn’t bubbling and threatening to overflow.

“I know I have a great face, but maybe look behind you a bit.” When Tony still didn’t turn around, Steve huffed and hobbled over, reducing the flame and cracking the lid open himself. It was a little annoying, but also endearing.

“I love you so much,” Tony blurted out, like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Fuck Steve, how did I ever get lucky enough to end up with you?”

“I would say I’m the lucky one, but you did almost burn our pasta,” Steve teased, leaned down to nose at Tony’s cheeks. Tony pulled him into a real kiss, pushing Steve back onto the counter, kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

“Not that I don’t like this,” Steve panted between kisses, “But I need to check on the sauce, Tony—”

“Fuck the sauce,” growled Tony in Steve’s ear, “I want _you_.”

“And I want you too, baby, I promise, but we should maybe eat first.”

“Maybe,” Tony agreed, but he didn’t let go of Steve, who was now effectively caged between Tony and the kitchen counter. “But maybe we don’t.”

“Or maybe we do,” said Steve, carefully extricating himself from between Tony’s arms and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before hobbling over to check on his sauce. “Because sadly, I need food if you want to have any fun with me.”

“Stupid serum,” Tony muttered, but he pet Steve’s shoulder, taking the spoon out of his hands. “Fine, we’ll do food first. Go sit down, I can handle it from here.”

Steve eyed him dubiously. “Tony, I can do it.” For all Steve loved him, the sauce smelled amazing, and Steve didn’t want to miss out on it if Tony accidentally burnt it. “How about,” he said, kissing Tony’s forehead, “I’ll finish up here, and you go rest for a bit? You haven’t had a chance to sit down all day.”

“We’re gonna fight about this, aren’t we?” sighed Tony. “Steve. I am more than capable of pouring a sauce over pasta.”

“But—”

“As much as I love yours, _no buts._ ”

Steve gave up. After almost a year of dating Tony, he knew when he could push, and when he was beaten. He stood in place silently, watching as Tony mixed the shredded cheese into the roux and poured it into the pasta. Steve was so proud of him. Of course, there were a few minor mistakes, like when he almost burned himself trying to strain the pasta, but they weren’t a big deal, really. 

“So,” said Tony, half an hour later, when both men had eaten their fill and were now dreaming of nothing more than a big soft bed to fall asleep in. “You want to go to bed now, honey?”

Steve looked over at the mess in the kitchen, at the streaks of flour and milk on the counter, and the pile of unwashed dishes to do. That would take a good while to clean up, he knew, and if he left it til the morning, everything would’ve hardened and congealed in the pans, making them that much harder to wash. He turned to Tony.

“Yeah,” he said, pressing a kiss to the crease of Tony’s neck, “Take me to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out a little more slice-of-life-ier than I expected, but I really do hope you enjoyed it, Nixie! Happy New Year, and may you have a nice, relaxing holiday season, and a great 2021!


End file.
